Michael Simms: You Taught Me
you pointed
At the bubbles rising in the pitcher
Of beer to explain consciousness
Which was blurred by that time
Of evening
August 11, 2022 · 11 Comments
Philip F. Clark: Lacrimosa
Where I grew up, wakes were a sparring ground— furor was the only defense to grief. Someone had to fight the rant of all those flowers. That is how … Continue reading
June 7, 2018 · Leave a comment
Doug Anderson: Eulogy
When I was nineteen and the drummer in the show band that backed you, you took me to your bed. I had been speechless in your presence: your honey whiskey … Continue reading
September 15, 2015 · Leave a comment
